Lilies for Love (3 page)

Janna was no fool and besides, Eadgyth had told her exactly how women became pregnant and bore children. She'd used their own goats and fowls as a living example, so that Janna could witness for herself how such things came about. So it was no secret what her mother and father must have done in order to bear a child. Janna shook her head in wonder. Truly, they must have loved each other dearly to defy the church in such a way.

But they had been well and truly punished for it! Bitterness against her father welled up in Janna's mind. Perhaps he thought his duty to God more important than his duty to the woman he loved and to his own child? Or was her father someone important, wealthy enough to do as he pleased, with no thought for the consequences of his actions?

It made Janna even more determined to seek him out, so that she could accuse him to his face and in front of his family if he had one. He must be told Eadgyth's fate. Even though Janna's knowledge of the church was limited, she knew that nuns and priests were required to lead celibate lives in the worship of God. It had not always been thus, but it was now, and Janna was coming to realise just how unforgiving both her father and the church must be to have turned Eadgyth away and abandoned her at a time of such great need. Small wonder then that Eadgyth, in turn, had forsaken the church and all that it had once meant to her.

Blindly, numbly, Janna knelt once more, pushed down by the ever-vigilant Agnes. She was oblivious of the rough stone pressing against her knees, oblivious of her surroundings. Her thoughts were consumed by the plight of her mother, and how wretched and frightened she must have felt when she realised she was with child and that her lover had abandoned her.

With knowledge came some understanding. Janna had known her mother to be cold and proud. It had been a source of some resentment that Eadgyth had seldom spoken a kind and loving word to her, or given her any praise while she was growing up. But Janna could understand now that this was how Eadgyth had protected herself when, disgraced and abandoned, she had been forced to beg the abbess for charity and had thereafter struggled to survive, to make a life for them both. Janna's resentment gave way to admiration as she contemplated Eadgyth's courage, the iron will that had not allowed her to give up, to be beaten or condemned in the eyes of the world. Her father might be a man of God, or even someone wealthy and important, but in Janna's eyes he was a coward, a nothing and a nobody compared to her heroic mother.

'Come.' Agnes tugged on Janna's arm, and Janna followed her obediently out of the church and into the sunlight. 'Are you all right?' the lay sister questioned. 'What happened in there?'

Dazed by the bright light, by the questions still whirling through her mind, Janna shook her head. 'I . . . I just had a revelation,' she said slowly.

'A revelation? You saw our holy mother? Or even Christ Himself?' Agnes's eyes grew wide with wonder.

'No! No, I mean I –'

'Johanna!' Sister Brigid swooped down like a great black bird. 'You're a disgrace to our order, dressed the way you are. Come with me.' Without waiting for a reply, she set off at a fast pace towards the small parlour they'd passed through on their visit to the abbess's quarters the night before.

Janna wrinkled her nose at Agnes, and got a shrug and a grin in reply. 'I'll see you later,' she called, and earned a frown of disapproval from her guide. She followed the blackhabited figure into the parlour, which now was guarded by a nun. She was engaged in haggling with a chapman who, in spite of her denials, was determined to pull the wares out of his heavy packs and display them to her. Sister Brigid ignored them, choosing this time a different door from the one they'd used the night before. It led out into a sunlit grassy square, bound by the stone church on one side and wooden buildings on the others. A vaulted walkway ran around its four sides, supported by graceful arches that framed the peaceful garth. A fountain splashed at the centre, a gentle murmuring that echoed the tranquil scene. A sparrow hopped about, poking an inquisitive beak into the grass, which was drying and browning in the summer sun. Janna hoped it might find a worm, for there was no-one about to spread any crumbs for its succour. She wondered where everyone was.

'This is the cloister, where we may read, chant, sew or spin, study the Rule, or take our rest,' the nun said, and waved an encompassing arm at the peaceful, sunny scene as she turned right and walked briskly along the corridor.

Read? Janna pricked up her ears.

'Along here is the refectory where we take our meals.' Sister Brigid gestured ahead as she turned left into another arm of the walkway. Janna licked her lips at the mention of food. The nun noticed, and said hastily, 'Those who have taken their vows, as well as the oblates, postulants and novices, eat here. The lay sisters have their own refectory in the outer courtyard.' She turned left once more, then swooped to the right and into a small parlour adjoining a larger storeroom. 'You may wait here for Sister Grace,' she said, and hurried off. Janna wondered if she was as curt and gruff with all the visitors who came to the abbey. Still, the porteress had told her a little about the abbey, and Janna was grateful for that. She was finding it difficult to get her bearings, to accustom herself to the new life she had chosen, which seemed so hard and so joyless.

Sister Grace was aptly named, she thought, as a nun glided through from the storeroom and stood, head on one side, studying her. A small twitch of her mouth spoke of her amusement, which was confirmed as she said, 'We're not often called on to give a sister's apparel to a youth!' She gestured towards Janna as best she might, for her arms were heavily laden. 'Are you sure you want these?' Sister Grace's voice was low and musical, her gestures graceful as she set her burden down upon a table.

'I'm dressed as a youth, but I am a maid, mistress . . . Sister.' Janna felt self-conscious under the nun's careful scrutiny.

'Then once you have changed, you may bring your old clothes back here to our wardrober. I am sure one of the workers at the grange will be glad of them. But tell me: if you are a maid, why do you wear such unbecoming garments?' The question sounded kind, as if Sister Grace genuinely wanted to know.

Janna sighed. 'It . . . it is my disguise.'

'And why should you need a disguise?'

'I believe my life is in danger.' For all that it sounded so dramatic, it was no more than the truth. Yet, noticing how Sister Grace's expression stiffened somewhat at her words, Janna understood that the nun wasn't sure whether or not to believe her. Nevertheless, she held out a bundle of clothes to Janna, along with a pair of rough leather sandals. 'You're safe here, and besides, no-one will recognise you among so many others when we all look so alike.'

Safe. Janna recognised the truth of the sister's words, and felt a slight easing of tension. She would become just another black crow, indistinguishable among the flock.

Sister Grace patted the rolled bundle on the table in front of her. 'Here is a pallet for you to sleep on, and a blanket to keep you warm,' she said. 'You may take these to the lay sisters' dorter and change into your habit while you are there. The scapular is for outside work only.'

Scapular? 'Thank you, Sister.' This largesse was more than Janna had expected. She smiled her relief at Sister Grace.

The nun looked steadily at her, all trace of amusement now vanished. 'If you have come here for sanctuary, you may be sure you will find it here,' she said. 'What is your name?'

'Johanna.'

'Well, Johanna, I am in charge of the postulants, novices and lay sisters, and I am answerable to our abbess for your behaviour. I understand you are not yet familiar with our ways but I'm not prepared to be lax on that account. I expect you to bring any questions and troubles to me and I will do all in my power to help you settle in here. Is that understood?'

'Yes, thank you, Sister.'

'Good.' The nun nodded briskly. 'We follow St Benedict's Rule of Silence here in the abbey, so I don't expect you to indulge in idle chitchat with the lay sisters. Speak only if there is a need to know.' She paused for a moment, while Janna tried to keep her dismay from showing on her face. 'After you have taken your bedding to the dorter, you will find the lay sisters in their refectory, breaking their fast,' Sister Grace continued. 'Go and join them there and, when you have finished, come to the chapter house, where your duties for the day will be told to you.' Giving Janna no time to say anything in reply, the nun glided out of the small room.

'I don't know where the refectory is!' Janna called after her.

The nun stopped and, with an impatient click of her tongue, beckoned Janna to follow her.

Once more they traversed the walkway that fringed the cloister garth, then through the small parlour and out into the large courtyard. To Janna, it felt almost as if she'd escaped from a dungeon, for all that she was still within the walls of the abbey. She looked longingly at the gatehouse on the far side of the courtyard, where pilgrims and guests of the abbey still milled about, talking after the Mass. It took all her willpower not to walk on and join them, and escape into the freedom of the marketplace beyond.

'The lay sisters' refectory is over there.' Sister Grace indicated its position across from the dorter with an outflung hand. 'You may break your fast once you are properly attired.'

She stood and watched Janna trudge towards the building in which she'd slept the night before. Conscious of the nun's gaze, Janna wondered if Sister Grace understood her longing to escape. Perhaps she'd read it in Janna's expression, and was lingering to make sure that if Janna fled the abbey, the garments and bedding she'd just doled out did not go with her.

In the daylight, Janna could see that the lay sisters' dorter was built over a storeroom. The door of the undercroft stood half-open and she could make out barrels and chests in the dimness beyond. No doubt they were all stuffed to bursting point, given the wealth of the abbey. Reminded of food, Janna's stomach growled with hunger. She hastened up the stairs to the empty dorter. She dropped her new bedding onto the pile of thin pallets and possessions set tidily on one side of the room, then hastily stripped off the breeches and smock she'd worn, and bundled them up. After a moment's thought, she refastened her girdle and precious purse against her skin, then donned an under-tunic followed by a black habit, which she secured with a cord that had been bundled within its folds. There was a sleeveless tunic, rough and stained. The scapular for outside work? Janna put it aside, and turned to the wimple. She draped it carefully over her head and neck, trying to recall how it had looked on Agnes. She took pains to tuck her hair out of sight, just as Agnes had done. A white homespun veil came last, different in every way from the silky black veil worn by the abbess, with its silver cross embroidered in the centre. What did she look like now? Janna wished she had a looking glass in which to see herself! No matter that she hated looking like a nun, these clothes must surely suit her better than the peasant's garb she'd worn before and they would certainly prove an effective disguise. She wondered what her mother would say, if only she could see her daughter now.

Eadgyth! Questions about her mother's past filled Janna's mind once more, banishing any vain thoughts about her appearance. Questions continued to occupy her as she handed in the bundle of discarded clothing to the cellaress, who was now busy dealing with a more prosperous-looking merchant in the parlour. A bell began to ring, and the sister looked up. 'Chapter's about to start,' she said. 'You'd better hurry.'

Conscious of her empty, rumbling stomach, Janna raced to the refectory for a snatched portion of bread and ale before hurrying after the lay sisters, who were fast disappearing into the parlour at the far end of the courtyard.

T
HE CLOISTER SEEMED
to be the hub around which the wheel of the abbey revolved, Janna thought, as she followed the lay sisters in a different direction from that she'd taken earlier with Sister Grace. This time they walked along the side of the stone church, turned right and then left into a large room. Black-robed nuns occupied the benches in front; the lay sisters were expected to sit behind them. Janna spied Agnes and slipped past a few of the lay sisters so that she could reach her friend.

The abbess stood in front of everyone to read the prayers and lesson of the day, after which she consulted the martyrology and asked the community to mention those saints listed for that day in their prayers, along with some of the abbey's benefactors and several deceased sisters. The weekly duty list was read out, and the abbess's place was then taken by a nun with a long face and a hairy mole on her cheek. She seemed to have a number of complaints to get off her chest.

'I had to reprimand her again for gluttony at mealtimes, and for breaking the silence to ask Sister Maria to pass her a platter of fish instead of signing her need, and that's not the worst of her faults. Only yesterday I had cause to witness . . .'

'Who's that?' Janna whispered.

'The prioress. Sssh.' Agnes cast a nervous glance around the assembled company.

The prioress? None the wiser, Janna sat back to listen to the catalogue of faults attributed to the hapless nun in question, a slight young woman who kept her head bent as she knelt in front of everyone, and who constantly wiped her nose on the back of her hand. Janna wondered if she was crying. None of the nun's faults sounded so very bad to Janna, but it seemed the abbess had a different opinion. She beckoned the young nun forward to listen to her judgment.

'A diet of bread and water for the next three days might help to concentrate your mind on the Rule of this house as set out by our revered St Benedict,' she said. She waited a moment, but the nun didn't raise her head or speak. 'In addition, and as punishment for your pride in not confessing your own faults, I bid you lie down at the door of the church for the rest of today's offices so that all may step over you on their way in. Pride has no place in our community.'

Janna looked at the abbess's costly robes, her carefully draped wimple, and the gold cross that hung down the front of her habit. She wondered who called the abbess to account for any infringements of the Rule. The priest? The bishop? Remembering her interview with the formidable abbess the night before, she suspected neither of them would dare to reprimand her. They wouldn't have the courage.

A pair of bright eyes caught Janna's attention, and she watched in disbelief as a mouse crept out from under the wimple of a nun sitting nearby. It perched on the nun's shoulder and began to groom its whiskers. A hand snaked up and fondled it surreptitiously.

'That's Chester,' Agnes muttered out of the side of her mouth. 'He belongs to Sister Ursel. She's the . . .' Her words were drowned by a sudden furious barking. A small dog shot off the lap of a nun sitting a few seats along and jumped up onto the bench, pawing at Sister Ursel's chest in a desperate bid to reach the mouse on her shoulder. The nun's hand closed protectively around her pet while she pushed the dog away with a panicky gesture. She quickly secreted the mouse safely within the folds of her habit, and sat with bent head while the abbess turned on the dog's owner.

'I've warned you before, I've warned all of you not to bring your animals into the chapter house,' she hissed furiously.

'But –'

'Silence!' the abbess thundered. 'Do not make matters worse with feeble excuses, Sister Catherine. Remove yourself, and your dog, at once! And, as penance for disobeying the Rule, you may go to your bed hungry for the rest of the week. You will sit at the table with your sisters, but you will content yourself with a diet of bread and water while you contemplate the Sin of Disobedience.'

The hapless nun jerked to her feet. Flushed with the heat of anger, she pushed past her sisters on her way to the door. As she passed, Janna caught a glimpse of her baleful glance at the downcast face of the mouse's owner, who stayed seated on the bench. Even here, in the company of good women, it seemed that spite and rage still flourished. And fear too, Janna thought, as she surveyed the quaking nun, owner of the mouse, Chester.

'Sister Anne!' The name caught Janna's attention and she leaned forward, eager to identify the infirmarian who looked after Agnes. She hoped the good nun wasn't in trouble, but it seemed she was only being called to give an account of those in her care who were too ill to attend this inquisition.

Sister Anne was a small, round nun in her later years, with rosy wrinkled cheeks and a cheerful smile. Just looking at her warmed Janna's heart, and quashed some of her trepidation. If such a woman, obviously kind and obviously knowledgeable, could live here by choice and so cheerfully, there must be some good things about living in the abbey, she thought. She listened to the infirmarian's clear voice discussing the progress of her patients and then, to Janna's relief, the meeting in the chapter house seemed to be over, for everyone stood up. The nuns in front filed out in orderly fashion, but the lay sisters sat down again.

The abbess had led the nuns out, but Sister Grace and the prioress remained. Her gaze fastened on Janna, and Janna immediately lowered her eyes, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

One of the lay sisters leapt to her feet. 'I have a fault to report.' Janna recognised the sharp voice from the night before. 'We have a new lay sister and, I regret to say, I saw her
running
towards our refectory this morning.'

Janna's heart sank. She'd forgotten about the Sin of Running. From the way this lay sister spoke of it, it was obviously a grievous sin, right up there with . . . Janna was hard put to think of anything bad enough. Murder? Adultery?

Sister Grace stepped forward. 'The lay sister is indeed new to our abbey and unfamiliar with our ways. I am also to blame, for I kept her in the storeroom and so she was late going to the refectory to break her fast. I crave the convent's indulgence for this infraction of the Rule. I undertake to reprimand our new sister, and I will make sure to set her on the right path. This will not happen again.'

Janna smiled, grateful that Sister Grace had spoken up for her. Her glance flicked to the complainer, who met her eyes with a vindictive smirk. '
And
she broke the Great Silence. She talked after we'd all retired to bed last night,' the gnat said virtuously.

'That was my doing.' Agnes spoke up quickly. 'Our new sister came late in the night and had nowhere to sleep. I offered to share my pallet with her, and I also explained to her some of our Rule for she knows nothing about how we live here in the abbey.'

'That was kindly done, Sister Agnes,' Sister Grace said briskly, before the prioress could open her mouth.

'
And
her hair is showing under her veil.'

Janna raised a hand and quickly tucked away an offending curl. Her hair had grown since she'd cut it short after the fire. It was now long enough to be unruly, but not long enough to be tied back and brought under control.

Sister Grace frowned at the gnat. 'I thank you, Sister Martha, for sharing your concerns with us,' she said, forestalling any further complaints. 'You are always very quick to point out our faults and give us the chance to rectify them, and we are grateful, but in this case you should know that our new Sister Johanna has much to learn. My hope is that we will all go out of our way to make her transition into our community as smooth and as pleasant as possible.'

Effectively silenced, a frustrated Sister Martha sat down.

'
Laborare est orare
,' the prioress said briskly, stepping forward to move on with the business of the chapter house.

'To work is to pray.' Agnes's lips hardly moved as she obligingly translated St Benedict's injunction for Janna.

'Silence!' The prioress glared at them both. 'Today you will all join the lay servants at the grange, for harvest is about to begin and your labour is needed there. The bailiff will meet you beside the barns. He will give you the implements you need, and explain which tasks he wants you to do. I'm sure I have no need to tell you that I expect your greatest care in harvesting our grain, for our livelihood, the very bread we eat, depends on you. A poor harvest means we all may go hungry.'

Sister Grace smiled at them. 'Go with God and with a cheerful heart, in the knowledge that God cares for us and will provide for all our needs.'

Janna wondered if Sister Grace had deliberately contradicted the prioress. She was about to rise and do as she'd been told when she realised that the prioress was now uttering a prayer, presumably entreating God for success in their endeavours. She settled back and waited for the prayer to be over.

'Harvest!' Agnes sounded gleeful as the lay sisters poured out of the chapter house and once more wound their way around the corridors of the cloister. 'It's hard work, cutting and binding the wheat, and tying it into sheaves. I'm often in great pain . . .' Agnes touched her scarred shoulder. 'But it's worth it just to escape from the confines of the abbey for a time.' She skipped aside to avoid several children and young nuns, all of whom sat on the stone flagging on one side of the arcade. They had tablets upon their laps, and were laboriously forming letters on the waxy surface with a pointed metal stylus. Janna immediately stepped closer to watch. One of the sisters had settled herself at a small table at their head. She, too, had a tablet and she held it up for all to see while she demonstrated what letters she wanted them to copy. Sister Grace came to stand beside her, keeping an eye on her young charges. On noticing Janna, she smiled. Janna wanted to thank her for intervening on her behalf. She hadn't expected such kindness from anyone. But Agnes had caught hold of her sleeve and was urging her on.

'Can all of us learn our letters with Sister Grace and that other sister?' Janna asked eagerly.

'Oh, no!' Agnes sounded shocked at the very idea. 'Rich merchants pay to have their children taught their letters by our chantress, Sister Maria. That's her sitting with Sister Grace over there. And some of those children are oblates. They're given by their families to the church. It's Sister Grace's task to look after them, that's why she's there.'

'What about those nuns?' Janna gestured at the black-clad older students, who seemed to be about her own age.

'They're not nuns, they're postulants or novices. They've already paid a dower to the abbey just to be here. So have the families of the oblates. You can't just come in here without payment, Janna, not if you want to become a full member of the convent.'

Depressed at having her hopes of learning to read and write crushed so quickly, Janna walked on beside her friend. She wondered what would happen if she cast herself on Sister Grace's mercy, and begged to join the class. The nun had already shown that she was kind; perhaps she might agree. But her brief flame of hope was quickly extinguished as she remembered the abbess's command to work hard and earn her keep.

'What about you? Are you going to become a nun?' Janna asked Agnes as they left the abbey precinct and walked on towards the fields rising in the distance.

Agnes shrugged. 'I have no dower.'

'Yet you've lived here since you were a child.' A thought occurred to Janna. 'The abbess seems so greedy for money, I'm surprised she agreed to take you in. Or . . .' She was suddenly confused. 'I beg your pardon, I mean no disrespect. Perhaps your parents paid the infirmarian to care for you?'

'Not they.' Agnes gave a quiet chuckle. 'They are poor peasants, and I believe I came with nothing but a plump fowl as a gift for the abbey. Fortunately for me, the old abbess was still here, although she died shortly after my arrival. I don't remember her very well, but everyone speaks of her as if she was a saint. Everyone loved her, not like Abbess Hawise. Sister Anne once told me that as soon as our new abbess was elected, she tried everything to get my parents to take me back. But our dear infirmarian spoke up for me, and so did the other nuns, and for once the abbess didn't get her way.'

'And are you glad about that? Do you like living here?' Looking at her new friend, Janna surmised Agnes to be some years older than herself. For certes she was of an age to be wed had she lived in a village and not an abbey.

For once, the talkative Agnes was silenced. 'Actually, I've never really thought about it,' she said finally, sounding surprised. 'I've always taken my life here for granted.' She was silent a few moments more. 'I know I said I'd like to marry and have children, but in truth I am content to stay here. This is my home; the nuns who live here are my family. Besides, I . . . I don't wish to show my face outside the abbey. I prefer to stay where I'm known, where people are used to my appearance.' Janna nodded in understanding, but Agnes was not yet finished.

'I'm used to the life here,' she said. 'I work hard but I love the Lord so it is no burden. Indeed, my work gives meaning and purpose to my days. And it is a joy to hear the chants and singing of the nuns, and to join in with their worship.' She turned to Janna with a sudden smile. 'Thank you,' she said simply.

'For what?'

'For making me realise I accept what has happened to me, and to know that, given the way I am, I'm happy to be here.'

Happy? With all the sins that could be committed so unknowingly, and the confession and punishment that must follow thereafter? Janna shook her head in wonder.

'But I still love harvest time, and the freedom of being out in the fields,' Agnes confessed as they forded the river and walked on through water meadows towards a number of roughly built wattle and daub barns.

Freedom? Janna kicked out at her habit, irritated by its clinging folds when she'd become used to striding about in a man's breeches. Yet Agnes spoke what was in Janna's mind for she, too, relished being in the open space of the fields after the confines of the abbey. 'Who lives over there?' She pointed to a cluster of small cots set around a pond.